


Mitochondria? I don't know her

by shturman



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, martin gives andres a reality check, some homophobia and misogyny but nothing too harsh that's just in their personalities, yes that's the best title i could come up with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26358547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shturman/pseuds/shturman
Summary: After his 3d divorce Andrés comes to a conclusion that Martín is his soulmate. Of course Andrés is drunk and half joking but Martín IS GOING to give him a reality check anyway.And you know what?Check the title ;)
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 18
Kudos: 66





	Mitochondria? I don't know her

“I’m starting to believe that you are my true and only soulmate, Martín.”

“And it took you only three divorces to realize that, my darling?”

Andrés laughed bitterly and poured some more whiskey in his glass. He and Martín have been sitting in the small dim kitchen, drinking, for couple of hours now. The modest flat on the fifth floor of an old apartment building that Martín was renting in Palermo wasn’t particularly to Andrés’ lavish taste, but he had been spending days and nights there. Especially lately, after he and his third wife had separated. 

The electronic watch on Martín’s wrist beeped once, 00:00. The men didn’t pay any thought to it. They were just sitting there, on the opposite sides of a small round kitchen table, their elbows on the edges of the smooth green tabletop that was shining softly in the light of a weak, already half-dead lightbulb under the celling. Martín should probably change it sometime soon, but it was so nice to look at Andrés in this soft, frail light. While Martín was gazing lovingly at his face, Andrés was looking at Martín’s glass.

“You do know I love you. Right?” Finally, he looked up at his friend.

“Of course,” answered Martín with the kindest smile he could master. “Just not as much as you loved your wives.”

“No. No… And that’s the thing. I love you much more, Martín.” Andrés’ stare was so sharp and vibrant that Martín had to lean back. “What we have, you and I, this is something exceptional,” Andrés leaned in closer, “unique. I’ve never had anything quite like that with a woman. Ever.” 

A thin, skeptical smile grew on Martín’s lips but in his eyes, there was unmistakable pain. 

“What are you saying to me?”

After a moment of hesitation, Andrés laughed again, “I don’t know what I’m saying! You got me drunk again,” he reached for his drink but Martín grabbed his hand. 

“You are saying you love me more than you’ve ever loved a woman.”

Andrés just looked him in the eyes, pretending to be calm, amused, brave – whatever but not vulnerable. 

“You,” Martín leaned across the table, “love ME more than anyone you’ve ever been with. More than anyone you’ve ever kissed, more that anyone you’ve ever fucked.”

When Andrés failed to answer, Martín huffed out a laugh and his warm whiskey breath touched Andrés’ face. 

“What, got nothing to say?” He finished his drink in one gulp and stood up from the table. Never breaking their eye contact, Martín walked over to Andrés and made him stand up. 

“Just imagine, huh?” he traced the sides of Andrés face with his fingertips. “Imagine how it would feel to kiss a person you love more than anything.”

“Martín…” Andrés tried to pull away but he was firmly held in place by the hand on his neck. 

“Hmm?”

“Martín, you know, I’m not gay.”

“Words, words, names, labels. Who cares? What really matters is what you want, mi amor.” Martín’s other hand found its place on the other side of the slim neck and Andrés smiled down at him. 

“Tell me, what do you want, Andrés?”

There was a moment of heavy silence, the air between two bodies -- hot and electrified. The frail light of the tired lightbulb was barely reaching their faces, there were only outlines of features and dark shadows – between the eyebrows, on the cheeks, under the eyes that were shining brighter than any lightbulb. 

“Love,” finally mouthed Andrés. “All I want is to believe in love. But…”

“No but. There’s no but, Andrés,” laughed Martín, the tears in his eyes trembling, and stepped even closer to the other man. “You love me.” He said firmly. “And I… You are my world.”

And with that, Martín leaned up to kiss him, on his tiptoes, hands grabbing black hair, nose pressed to the other man’s cheek, breathing in his smell, mouth open, devouring, hungry, desperate. 

When he pulled back that was only for a couple of inches.

“Do you feel that?”

Andrés’ black eyes were glistering with tears.

“Do you understand what real love feels like, Andrés?” Martín placed a soft kiss on his lips and stroked his cheek gently. 

“Martín, it’s…”

“What? Wrong?” A kiss on the cheek. “To be with the person you love and respect, and let in every part of your life?” A kiss on the other cheek. “Tell me, and tell me the truth. Did you really respect any of those women? Did you truly, ever, let them in?”

“What are you talking about! Of course I did, I married them, I wanted to spend my life with them--"

Martín clicked his tongue and shook his head.

“No. Andrés, don’t lie to yourself. Don’t humiliate yourself like that. You know the truth.”

Andrés did not answer. 

“You loved what they gave you,” Martín continued calmly, softly, without judgment. “They were sweet, they adored you – because how can one not? But you were never whole. You would not let them be your equal, that’s just who you are. I know you, you arrogant prick,” Martín smiled, Andrés didn’t. “But you and I, we're ARE whole.”

Martín couldn’t take it any longer and fell into his arms, pressing his cheek to Andrés’.

“I know you know that, Andrés. Please, don’t be a coward.”

“I know,” whispered Andrés against his ear. “I know it’s true because it hurts like hell.”

Martín quickly pulled back, tears running down his face.

“It doesn’t have to!” 

Andrés laughed at the sight of Martín talking about not hurting while crying his eyes out. He brushed his tears away with his thumbs and let his hands rest on his face.

“How long, Martín?”

“W-How long what?”

“How long have you been hurting for me?”

Martín tried to look away but Andrés didn’t let him, making him look right at him.

“Pretty much since the moment a saw you.”

“My god,” whispered Andrés and ran his fingers through Martín’s hair, looking at him as if for the first time. “You loved me all these years…”

“And you love me now,” said Martín and leaned up to kissed him again. 

“Yes I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> ugh! thanks for reading. I wrote it cause I was sad and exhausted. and of course, it's more reasonable to write a berlermo fix-it instead of sleeping, duh
> 
> please leave a comment if you liked it, it would mean the world <3


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